


Wait

by onceuponamoon



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamoon/pseuds/onceuponamoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard doesn't want Frank to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> So this is pretty goddamn schmoopy, but I figured I should post something since I haven’t in over a month. And it’s actually (barely) fewer than 1,500 words! Looked over by for glaring errors, if not actually beta’d.

“Wait!” 

Without conscious thought, Gerard’s right hand darts out after Frank, gripping firmly around the worn denim of his jeans and both ridges of leather of his belt, yanking him backward and causing Frank to flail his arms in search of balance. He falls back into Gerard’s body regardless, warm and compact and solid along Gerard’s front. 

Gerard’s pulse settles back into the comfortable rhythm of familiarity when Frank sighs, and then races once again when Frank tips his head back and hums into Gerard’s throat. “We don’t have time, Gerard,” Frank grumbles, but his hand is reaching back to cup Gerard’s cheek, bringing his mouth closer. 

“Who says we don’t have time?” Gerard speaks quietly against Frank’s chin.

Frank giggles, happy and quiet and _Oh, silly Gerard_ right there to flood flavor of Frank onto his tongue. “The _alarm clock,_ ” he says, stroking across Gerard’s cheeks and into his hair, tugging on his earlobe on the way back down. He’s smiling, eyes bright and satisfied, lips screwing to the side when Gerard nibbles on a bit of skin on his jaw, pinching just enough that Frank gasps.

This time, when Frank attempts to pull away again, Gerard lets him go. His eyes immediately drop to the irritated mark he just made on Frank’s jaw, smirking softly to himself. It hadn’t been hard enough to leave a temporarily permanent mark though, not particularly claiming territory, just leaving a little sensitive spot that might remind Frank of Gerard later on today when he’s talking or laughing or compulsively rubbing at his face the way he does. 

Gerard watches Frank slip his shirt back over his head, pulling his hair in every which direction and tugging at Gerard’s stomach. The cotton hides the few marks that Gerard _did_ intend to leave, not quite meeting the line of his low slung jeans accompanied by an unhelpful belt. He wonders if Frank is going to bother to fix his hair or if he’s really going to go about his day this way, still soft and sated and quite a bit disheveled from their little romp—or if Frank is going to rectify his appearance, let it disappear behind careful fingers and a quick grin. Will someone notice Frank the same way that Gerard does? 

“Do you really have to go?” Gerard asks. He knows he sounds whiny, because that’s approximately the point. It doesn’t make sense that Frank is willing to be awake and functional at such an hour, while Gerard is devastated to lie in bed waiting for him to return like some hapless maiden. “When will you be back?”

Frank sucks on his lip-ring and squinches an eye shut in contemplation. “Maybe by five? Six at the latest.” He ruffles a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end.

A rush of affection practically cripples Gerard, and he’s grateful that he’s still so near the bed. He allows his knees to buckle and he flops dramatically onto the mattress, crinkling his nose at the smell of their crumpled sheets. “But that’s like, _eight hours_ ,” Gerard whines again. He turns to look up at Frank, jutting a lip out to pout and also in a subtle request of more kisses. 

“Gerard,” Frank says sternly. The tint of his cheeks says otherwise, or maybe the same, but in a different tone. 

Slowly, Gerard twists languidly against the sheets as if he were stretching, feeling his shirt ride up to expose his hips and the pudge of his stomach, and his pajama pants slide lower. If he were to turn over, Frank might even see the dimples above Gerard’s ass. He turns over. He makes his eyes wide and blinks innocently.

“Gerard,” Frank says again, biting his lip again. He runs his hands over his face again, and makes a frustrated little sound before he turns and searches around the foot of the bed for his shoes. 

Gerard stretches his arms over his head and languorously turns back over to grin mischievously at Frank. “Frank,” Gerard returns, blinking and reaching out a hand in his direction. Frank distractedly grabs it, still flipping around the comforter where it hangs at the bottom of the bed to see if his shoes managed to escape under there. Giving a tight yank, Gerard brings Frank closer and then another tug gets Frank sprawled on top of him after a sharp yelp. “Please stay with me.”

Frank sighs, as if he was exasperated, but he does bury his face in the crook of Gerard’s neck. “Gee, you know that if I had a choice, I’d stay right next to you all day long,” he murmurs. Heat spreads from the spot, flares out inside Gerard at the words. Frank’s next words are even quieter, but all the more intense. “Fuck, I wouldn’t even let you leave this bed.”

Unable to help himself, Gerard flips them over, his body heavy where his thighs settle over Frank’s hips. He grips Frank’s wrists, fingertips pressing into the delicate skin, and brings them over Frank’s head. It’s well worth the heady noise he gleans from Frank. His fingers drift down the sensitive undersides of Frank’s arms, paleness against colorful patterns. “Then do it,” Gerard whispers intently. “Stay. Don’t leave.” He punctuates his request with a kiss to the throat that nudges Frank’s chin higher. Nipping again, a bit harder this time, Gerard leaves another tiny red mark to serve as a reminder.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes, heavy and hot into the air between them. “Gerard, I _can’t_.” At Gerard’s next murmured plea, Frank growls, actually _growls_ , and bucks up against Gerard, knocking him off-balance. Somehow he has _Gerard_ pinned underneath him, staring heatedly into his eyes. He rests his elbows on either side of Gerard’s head and fists his hands in Gerard’s hair. “You don’t know what you do to me. Have to go to work like this…”

He furiously presses his lips to Gerard’s, granting him a brief feeling of _yes_ until he bites down. Gerard squeaks before he can stop himself. Now he’s the one bucking up, hazy eyes focusing on the flush on Frank’s cheeks as he tries to align their hips. He wants to beg and plead and offer anything, but he doesn’t. He knows Frank’s limit—and he knows he might’ve already pushed past it.

“I want you like this when I get back home tonight…” Frank gravels. 

Then he releases Gerard’s lip and it immediately feels swollen and tender. It’ll be a pain when he worries it between his teeth later, or when he goes for a sip of coffee, or when he calls one of his clients to check in.

“Yeah, on your back. Might even tie you up. Think you’d like that, Gee?” His voice is taunting, smooth and sinful in Gerard’s ear. Frank’s hand comes down to stroke the hair back from Gerard’s forehead. “I think you would. Gonna tease you. Gonna make you wait. And if you touch yourself—” Frank breaks off to smirk. “I’ll make you regret it.”

He means it, Gerard knows, and it makes him breathless. But Gerard smirks up at him anyway, about to go, “Oh, really?” and maybe con Frank into some more details, a few more stolen minutes, however Frank deftly rolls away and off the side of the bed. Up on his elbows, Gerard peers down to see Frank on his hands and knees, peeking under the bed. Gerard sighs, smiling to himself, before he stands and retrieves Frank’s shoes from on top of the armoire. He sheepishly hands them to Frank, who’s giggling with surprise at Gerard. 

Gerard flops face down on the bed to bury his reddening cheeks and embarrassed smile into one of the pillows.

With a pointed, “Remember what I said,” emphasized by a brief squeeze of Gerard’s ass and a kiss to the side of his head, Frank is gone. Excited little yips greet him as he passes the kitchen and Gerard hears him cooing to their “babies,” before he’s out the door.

He knows he should get up, get to feeding the dogs, maybe showering, and actually _working_ on something, but he’ll lay there for a few more minutes. The minutes will turn into maybe an hour. He’ll feed the dogs and heat up some coffee, but he won’t shower. He’ll paint for an hour or two, maybe call Mikey, and then take the dogs for a walk. He’ll answer a call from Frank during his lunch break, and it’ll make him want to disregard the command, but he won’t. They’ll hang up and Gerard will smoke and think about Frank and what he’s said up until the moment Frank walks in through the door. Frank will make them dinner, he’ll feed the dogs, he’ll watch a bit of television as Gerard watches him and then, finally, Frank will keep his word.

He sighs and smiles to himself.

This is why Gerard loves Saturdays.


End file.
